Mining Firms Discover Old-Timers Can Be Worth Their Weight in Gold

According to the local mining lore here, senior geologists tend to do their work the old-fashioned way. They avoid radar technology, preferring instead to examine termite and ant mounds; they study vegetation and carry divining rods. They're famous in the often cutthroat industry for their efficiency—also for wearing neckties in the blistering heat.

"I only hire old geologists," says Norman Slater, managing director of Slater Coal, a South African coal company. People such as Kevin Petzer, a 65-year-old Zimbabwean who still roams South Africa, Mozambique and Namibia from his base in the KwaZulu-Natal province in eastern South Africa.

Mr. Petzer, who emphasizes that he also has mastered conventional scientific methods, studies ant heaps, fossilized worm-burrows and flowers. The Becium homblei, a white and purple flower, grows best on copper-rich soils. So that's a good place to look for the metal. Mr. Petzer says fossilized burrows from certain prehistoric slugs "mean there's no coal below, because those creatures existed before coal formations, and the coal would have covered them up if it was there." Gold and other metals close to the surface sometimes can be found thanks to samples dug out by ants, Mr. Petzer says.

"If an ant heap is a meter high over ground, which is to say, about 3 feet, it's probably digging up material from three to four meters below, so you can collect samples from those ant heaps," said Mr. Petzer, who says that is a constant ratio. In addition to scouting for minerals, he also helps mining companies find water, since they need lots of it to run their mines. For that, he favors the forked branch of a peach tree.

Mr. Petzer "is the best coal geologist I've known," says Mr. Slater, who is currently using him to look for bituminous coal in the Orange Free State.

Mining executives say that while they chuckle about the quirks of older geologists, they recognize the business value of their memory of previous exploratory work, their grasp of complex rock formations and their discipline in knowing how to meticulously chart new territory.

Despite the advent of GPS, radar technology and 3-D computer software, an exquisitely hand-drawn map and carefully collected data often can outdo what a couple of whiz kids can find on a laptop. Since commodity prices are higher than they were several decades ago, deposits once not worth digging up can now be mined at a profit. An older geologist might very well know where they are.

Experience helps in other ways. Martin Hirsch, a relative youngster at 56, has been developing a uranium deposit for Toronto-listed Forsys Metals Corp. in Namibia and warns younger colleagues about snakes. The Puff adder, jokes the German geologist, always bites the third geologist. "The first guy wakes him up, and the second guy makes him mad."

Hugh Jenner-Clarke, an 83-year-old Englishman, recently found a major deposit of 950,000 tons of rare earths, a group of 17 elements prized for distinct properties of conductivity, magnetism and flexibility. "Retire? What for?" asks Mr. Jenner-Clarke, who made the discovery in western South Africa, at a site called Zandkopsdrift, for a Toronto-listed company called Frontier Rare Earths Ltd.FREFF-6.76% "I'm not one to linger reading the paper after breakfast."

The white-haired bushy browed geologist, who immigrated to South Africa more than 50 years ago, packs a pickax, a few other tools, and some tea when he heads out to rocky bush country. He always wears a necktie. "People wonder why I bother with the tie," he says. "I tell them, it protects my neck from the sun." He never takes it off. "If it's very hot, I'll remove my jacket," he says.

Mr. Jenner-Clarke, whose first assignment was hunting diamonds for De Beers, never uses a computer. He does however rely on microscopes to study samples and has been known to carry an L-shaped divining rod, which he holds over his head until it points him toward water. "It's about the Earth's magnetism," he says.

ENLARGE

Kevin Petzer

Others reject that practice. Divining rods are "mystical voodoo bull—," scoffs John Borshoff, a 67-year-old geologist and CEO of Western Australia-based Paladin Energy Ltd.PALAF-2.13%, who developed a major uranium mine in Namibia. His formula: painstaking field work. "In the old days, you'd spend eight weeks in the field, just eating meat," he said. "Young geologists want to get home to Mommy."

Exploration geology "is science and religion," Mark Cutifani, the incoming CEO of Anglo AmericanAAUKY0.56% PLC, the world's fifth- biggest mining company, says, endorsing the virtues of seniority. "You have to be able to recognize patterns in the rocks."

Or termites, says Stuart Smith, a 64-year-old from Zimbabwe. They grind up the earth and bring samples to the surface. "I look for their piles," says Mr. Smith. He says such methods don't generally appeal to young geologists. "They would rather sit in front of a computer with their remote sensing," he said. His wife and four children don't understand it, either. "They find it very odd that I go looking for rocks."

Neither the best technology, nor hard-working ants, can map very far underground, and rock formations differ. Drilling holes every few dozen yards and pulling up pipe-shaped samples still leaves acres of mystery. "Age and experience help your imagination paint a picture of what's in between," says Scott McLean, the CEO of Toronto-listed Transition Metals Corp.

Young geologists respect their elders, up to a point. "I relish the opportunity to work with older geologists," says Steve Flank, a 29-year-old from Thunder Bay, Canada. "At the same time, every field camp needs a computer to manage large databases."

Tony Gesualdo, a 30-year-old geologist exploring for gold in North Carolina, says he often works for an older man whose method "seems to be to get lost and follow his nose." The man has trouble with the GPS and radio, often pressing the wrong buttons, so he has taken to wearing bright orange, "so we don't lose him," says Mr. Gesualdo. "But he seems to always stumble on the 'right' rocks. I've stopped questioning him."

Robert Milici, an 81-year-old geologist for the U.S. Geological Survey, didn't bother with orange vests. Instead, as a "gentleman scientist," as he describes himself and his contemporaries, he always wore a suit and tie while kicking rocks in the woods. It made him stand out from the locals. "Nowadays, you try to blend in," says Mr. Milici, who assesses oil and gas resources at headquarters in Northern Virginia.

Mr. Petzer, the 65-year-old coal geologist in KwaZulu-Natal, is a relative youngster, and sees a productive future ahead. While others consider him old, he doesn't think he is and plans to work well into his 80s. "I am never going to retire," he said. "I'm going to fossilize on the side of a mountain into salt or limestone."

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